Paranoia Poem by William F Glennon

I have made myself a prisoner.
Solitude is my executioner.

Four walls are closing in.
It's getting harder to breath.

Am I looking at my own death?
Do I continue with doubt?
Have I nothing more to figure out.

Is this how it all ends? How do I make amends?
Do I accept god into my life? Do I deny this and just pretend?

The future is obscured by the presence.
Blood is still flowing through my veins.
God knows I have suspicions that I never could explain.